


Distraction

by lotusk



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Asshole Luhan, Language, M/M, Sexual innuendos, Shapeshifting, Snarky dialogue, Tattoos, Tsundere Minseok, Werepanthers, also minseok is dumb too, brief reference to injury and mild violence, did i mention dumb xiuhan? cos so dumb, dumb luhan, dumb xiuhan, really really dumb luhan, territorial fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotusk/pseuds/lotusk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Injured shapeshifter Luhan is desperately seeking a distraction, and he finds it in the form of Dr. Kim Minseok.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [](http://deerofdawn.livejournal.com/profile)[deerofdawn](http://deerofdawn.livejournal.com/) exchange

**Title:** Distraction  
**Pairing:** Luhan/Minseok  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word count:** 5,253 words  
**Summary:** Injured shapeshifter Luhan is desperately seeking a distraction, and he finds it in the form of Dr. Kim Minseok.  
**Warnings:** brief reference to injury and mild violence, sexual innuendos, language, werepanthers, tattoos  
**Author's note:** Originally written for the [](http://deerofdawn.livejournal.com/profile)[**deerofdawn**](http://deerofdawn.livejournal.com/) exchange

 

  
  
  
Intense needles of pain shot through his torso and Luhan groaned through gritted teeth. He should have known better than to wander into Zitao’s territory, but he’d always been too reckless for his own good. Boredom and recklessness were a volatile combination, which was how he’d ended up here—exchanging kicks and punches with the most lethal fighter in the city. Most panthers were highly skilled in martial arts—wushu, karate, jujitsu, kendo. It didn’t really matter which kind, panthers just needed to work out their natural aggression and predatory instincts in ways that didn’t result in a trail of corpses.  
  
It was only logical that they would build their own exclusive, members-only gyms, where the only criteria for acceptance was the M-chromosome. Each specially equipped gym provided the panthers with a safe, neutral place where they could work out and spar with others of their kind. It was a good system that had been in place for decades—an outlet away from the prying eyes of the humans they lived amongst. Luhan didn’t have any human friends but there were a few panthers he’d formed close ties with. Kim Jongin, Amber Liu, Zhang Yixing and Kang Seulgi were friends he trained with, drank with, and did stupid shit with.  
  
Luhan and his friends were all skilled and strong fighters, but Huang Zitao had fought his way to the top of the pile. It was no surprise that most panthers accorded him with respect and a healthy amount of distance. Unfortunately, Luhan had never been the kind to conform. Panthers were solitary creatures who had their own areas staked out along the fringes of the city, in areas where civilization was sparse and decent sections of forest existed. Some made homes on their territories, while others (like Luhan) maintained apartments in the city, worked dead-end jobs, and drove out here several times a week to let their beasts blow off steam.  
  
Naturally, Luhan had his own land, but he’d been crazy bored tonight, and possessed by an uncontrollable need to run and hunt somewhere new. He was so goddamn sick of loping through the same, constrained patch of moonlit grass and ghostly trees. Monotony sucked and the grass on Zitao’s neighboring land looked so much greener, so much more tempting.  
  
“Stay off my fucking land!” Zitao growled as he wiped drops of blood off the corner of his lip. Then he gave Luhan one last, solid kick to the ribs before shoving him beyond the borders of his property.  
  
“I’ll think about it—” Luhan smirked as he bent over to catch his breath. He was using all his energy to mask the lancing pain, because you could never show weakness to your opponent. . .especially when he was as powerful as Huang Zitao was.  
  
“You’re gonna get your ass killed one of these days,” Zitao said, shaking his head in disbelief. Then, he turned on his heel and walked away—boots making no sound on the dew-damp grass. Panthers were stealthy, quiet creatures. When they weren’t beating the shit out of each other, anyway.  
  
“Probably.” Luhan gave a humorless laugh before hacking up some blood. His battered body felt like it had just come out of a collision with a combine harvester and his knuckles were throbbing something bad. But Luhan wasn’t worried. All he needed to do was shift and his body would heal itself. He should do it now—unsheathe his claws, and wait for the black fur to course over his body, wait for the pain and injuries to dissolve.  
  
He _should_. But Luhan had never had much sense. All he could think about was how fatally bored he felt, and how he was determined to not run on the same patch of grass tonight. His bruised and cut up skin itched and hungered for something other than the usual. New experiences. New sensations.  
  
“God, I’m so fucking bored. Someone, please, just put me out of my misery and entertain meeeee,” he yelled at the sky as he flopped onto his back, arms spread out wide. He waited. . .but of course, no one shouted back.  
  
_Typical_.  
  
He lay there a little while longer, his eyes scanning the surrounding landscape for something, fucking _anything_. Anything to shatter the nothingness of his everyday existence. Making a sound of disgust, Luhan was about to give up and just shift, when he caught sight of it—several squares of amber-colored light in in the distance. He'd seen that house hundreds of time before, and taken no notice of it other than to assess its threat level, which had always appeared to be at zero.  
  
The house owner was a small-built Asian male who lived alone. He drove a silver BMW X3, left for work at 7.30 am, and generally got home before 7.00 pm. Perfectly unremarkable. The only unusual thing about his neighbor seemed to be the fact that he chose to live in this godforsaken area. It was a ridiculous forty minutes’ drive from the city, and ten minutes’ drive away from the nearest, occupied houses.  
  
It made Luhan all kinds of curious because humans tended to live in clusters. Safety in numbers or whatever. And then you had this bizarre, all-by-his-lonesome dude. It made no sense. Luhan searched through his sensory memories for his impressions of the guy. Sharp features. Dark hair he kept really short. Normally dressed in jeans and hoodies when he wasn’t dressed in a shirt, tie and leather jacket for work. Luhan wasn’t sure, but he was most likely in his late 20s or maybe even early 30s. He'd need to get closer than 100 feet to know for sure, though. His feline vision was exceptional, but it couldn't achieve the impossible.  
  
Tonight seemed like the perfect time to get a better look at his neighbor, Luhan thought as the corners of his mouth lifted in a mischievous grin.  
  
  
  


///

  
  
  
  
Luhan was trying really hard to focus on the man’s eyes because eye contact was important, and he did have really attractive, almond-shaped eyes that burned with intelligence. He was _trying_ anyway, but the man kept _talking_ , and every time he spoke, Luhan’s attention was drawn to his mouth. His extremely pink, extremely luscious, extremely devastating mouth. It was killing him. And it kept. . .MOVING.  
  
“Does it hurt when I do this?” The man pressed gently on his ribs, right where the skin had already begun purpling. He had a look of intense concentration on his face like he knew what he was doing. Not that Luhan knew shit-all about doctors, having never had any occasion to meet any. He had a single onyx stud in his left earlobe and Luhan didn’t find it sexy at all. NOPE.  
  
“Not too badly,” he grumbled at the discomfort.  
  
“What about here,” the man asked just before he pressed another section of bruised skin. This time, Luhan yelped in pain (and he wasn’t even faking it). “Yeah, that feels like a fracture. I want you to take some X-rays right away, before you injure yourself further. Also, you’ve obviously taken some blows to the face and abdomen as well. I don’t see any signs yet, but you might develop a concussion later. And you might already have some form of internal bleeding. I’m driving you to the E.R. immed—”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, no X-rays! I don’t do X-rays. . .or hospitals for that matter.” Luhan said it firmly, his hands raised in a loud, and distinct declaration of _hell no_. He already _knew_ he had fractured ribs; he didn’t need a machine to confirm it. Also, the fact that he’d puked up blood earlier was a sure sign he had abdominal bleeding. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, but once it got to the stage where Luhan couldn’t take it anymore, he’d have to shift. If he didn't, he'd end up with permanent injuries, assuming he didn’t just outright die.  
  
“Don’t be an idiot,” the man said even more firmly. “Everyone does hospitals at some point in their lives.”  
  
“Not me. Never been to one and that’s not gonna change anytime soon,” Luhan protested. A shifter in a human hospital? Humanity would collapse. People wouldn’t be able to handle the idea of beings living amongst them that were anything but human.  
  
“Look, I don’t give a fuck what you think. I’m a trained doctor and I’m telling you, you need medical attention I’m not equipped to give. I’ve disinfected your wounds and dressed them, but that’s all I can do here.” The man’s eyes sparked with annoyance as he lectured Luhan, and he couldn’t help grinning. He hadn’t had this much fun in years. He just hoped his neighbor didn't decide to check on the wounds he'd cleaned, because the skin was probably stitching itself together by now.  
  
“What kind of doctor works office hours anyway?”  
  
“How would you know what kind of hours I keep?” the man was staring at him with deep suspicion now, and perhaps a touch of anxiety. He was probably trying to figure out if he’d just let some crazed stalker into his house. Luhan was no stalker but even he had to admit he was more than a little nuts.  
  
“The land beyond your backyard? That’s mine. I just happen to see you from time to time is all.” Luhan tried to sound nonchalant, hoping his neighbor bought the act.  
  
“I can’t imagine a cabin that well hidden in those woods.” Even when his mouth was set in a thin line, it looked attractive. Why hadn’t Luhan introduced himself earlier? He must have moved in at least a year ago. All that wasted time!  
  
“There is no cabin in the woods. I live in the city. I just pitch a tent every now and then when I feel like. . .y’know, sleeping under the stars and getting in touch with nature or whatever,” Luhan explained flippantly and got a loud snort in response. He probably thought Luhan was the worst kind of punk, and he’d be right too.  
  
“Dude, you can sleep nude under the stars for all I care. _After_ you recover. Tonight, you’re sleeping on a hospital bed. Let’s go.”  
  
“Now that you’ve seen me with my shirt off, I think we should at least exchange first names,” Luhan suggested.  
  
“I don’t think we should exchange anything at all.” He gave a short laugh. “But we’re wasting time. You could be hemorrhaging to death while we sit here making small talk!”  
  
“Trust me, I’d know if I’m hemorrhaging to death and I’m not. Well, not yet anyway. So hey, if you won’t tell me your name, then will you at least tell me why you have thirteen snowglobes on your bookshelf? And my name is Luhan, thanks for asking.”  
  
“My name and my snowglobes are none of your business,” he glared. “Can you stand up and walk to my car?” All businesslike, he placed his fingers gently against Luhan’s belly and frowned when Luhan winced at the contact. “That’s it, I’m helping you put a shirt on and then I’m driving you to the E.R. Non-negotiable.”  
  
“No hospitals. Tell me your name. Please?”  
  
“It’s Minseok,” he said, sounding distracted as he grabbed a grey t-shirt from a pile of neatly folded laundry on the nearby coffee table. He must have interrupted the man in the middle of his chores.  
  
“Minseok. That’s a nice n—” Luhan’s words got muffled as Minseok pulled the oversized t-shirt over his head, easing his arms through the sleeves. Luhan had been shoving the dull throb of pain into the background for the past half hour, but all of a sudden, it was back with a vengeance. He curled up, groaning—his body racked with spasms of blinding agony. His eyes were morphing from hazel into glowing topaz and Luhan swore. He only had seconds now and it was too late to explain.  
  
Minseok was staring at him now, his eyes swimming with confusion and fear. Luhan gave him a weak smile and said, “No hospitals. And I’m sorry about your shi—”  
  
_Out of time. . ._  
  
In a burst of shimmering golden light and shredded fabric, Luhan shifted.  
  
  
  


///

  
  
  
  
Slipping in and out of troubled dreams, Luhan had vague impressions of someone giving him sips of water, wiping him down, calling his name. And he must have peed at some point? But he couldn’t remember. It had been crazy stupid of him not to shift within the first half hour of his clash with Zitao. He shouldn’t have let it get so bad.  
  
Panthers had a life expectancy of 100 years if they weren't stupid reckless. It was just too bad _stupid reckless_ was Luhan’s middle name. With the risks he sometimes took, he’d probably lost a decade or two of his lifespan by now. God only knew how many years he’d lost with tonight’s dumb stunt. It was a minor miracle he’d even made it.  
  
“Luhan? Can you hear me?” There was that soft timbre again. His neighbor. The doctor. _Minseok_. Minseok who couldn't say his name right. Minseok who called him Hān, which meant _snore_ , when his name Hán actually meant _pre-dawn_. It was quite the comedown. He'd never live it down if Amber, or Yixing, or Zhoumi ever overheard him being called Hān. One of the first things on the agenda when he got back on track, was to teach Minseok how to pronounce his name the correct way.  
  
“How long was I out?” Luhan asked as he stretched his limbs cautiously, checking for aches and other injuries even though logic told him the shift would have healed pretty much everything.  
  
“Two days,” Minseok said, his tone somber as he took Luhan’s wrist and checked his pulse. “Your resting heart rate is 120. Not a number I normally get when I monitor my patients’ heart rates. But you’re not a normal patient, are you?”  
  
“You could say that!” Luhan gave a humorless laugh.  
  
_Two days_.  
  
Fuck, he’d really messed himself up bad. Well Zitao had helped a little, but Luhan had to be honest with himself. It was mostly because he’d been a complete moron by delaying the shift as long as he had.  
  
Minseok had a thoughtful expression on his face as he placed his palm on Luhan’s forehead. “Huh. Your temperature’s gone up. I’m going to put a thermometer in your mouth now. Try not to be an ass about it.”  
  
“I’d rather you put something else in my mouth.” Luhan knew he might get a fist in his face for that, but he had no regrets.  
  
“ _That_ won’t be happening, you jackass. Now, open up and cooperate.” Minseok positioned the glass thermometer a few inches from his mouth.  
  
“You won't need that,” Luhan said, waving it away. “We don’t get fever. Our core temperature is 105 degrees when we’re asleep, and 110 when we’re awake. It drops to 100 when we’re in a healing sleep.”  
  
“Well. That explains a lot,” Minseok said as he let his hand fall to his side.  
  
“Don’t doctors use digital thermometer thingies these days? That’s what I see on TV, anyway. Are you sure you’re a doctor?”  
  
“Yes, I’m a fucking doctor! I use one of those. . .thingies at work. When I’m at home, I’m pretty old school. I like old school.”  
  
“Like snowglobes?” Luhan asked, watching him curiously.  
  
“Yeah. Like snowglobes. Falling snow is pretty. I’ve liked snowglobes since I was a kid, I guess.”  
  
“So it’s not because someone special gave you a snowglobe once and you’ve built a shrine of snowglobes in their memory?”  
  
“My life isn’t _that_ dramatic,” Minseok laughed. It was the funniest thing. Luhan had never found gummy smiles attractive, but suddenly, he felt like he couldn’t get enough of them.  
  
“Hey doc, can I ask you something?”  
  
“Depends,” Minseok said, his eyes looking guarded.  
  
“Have you seen. . .well, people like me before?” Luhan folded his right arm over his belly and waited.  
  
“No. You are. . .definitely the first. I mean I’ve heard stories about shapeshifters, but they were just stories, you know? Urban legends or whatever.” Minseok shrugged, looking very undisturbed for someone who'd just discovered that the man lying in his guest room was an urban legend come true. Luhan wasn't sure how he felt about how underwhelmed Minseok was by the revelation. He was a werepanther, for God's sake. Shouldn't Minseok be a _just a little_ impressed?  
  
“How long was I in, um, the other form?”  
  
“About 24 hours, give or take. You just slept the whole time you were in that form. I couldn't leave you on your own though, so I took a couple days off work. I had no idea how to treat your wounds and I wasn’t sure if you’d attack me in your injured state, so I just left you sleeping on the floor and kept my distance. I don’t know anything about shapeshifters but I do know animals don’t like being touched when they’re hurt and you are one fucking big cat, no offence.” Minseok recounted the events in a matter-of-fact manner, like he was talking about some routine thing that had happened at work. _What the hell?_ Okay. Now, he was really starting to feel insulted.  
  
“I’m not a cat, dammit. Cats are cute and harmless. I am not cute or harmless,” Luhan said in disgust. “The correct term is panther.”  
  
“Well, you’re not cute—I won’t argue with you over that—but you seem pretty harmless.” He was doing it again! That maddening shrug!  
  
"Excuse me, I am anything but harmless."  
  
"You seem harmless enough. That's why I didn't call the police or whoever you're supposed to call when you find a shapeshifter in your home."  
  
"Fine. But I would just like to put it down for the record that I can be dangerous as fuck when I'm not unconscious," Luhan said insistently.  
  
"If you say so," Minseok snorted before shoving a glass of water in his direction.  
  
In between sips of water, Luhan asked, "You said I was unconscious for two days?"  
  
"Yeah. Last night, I went to my room for a shower and when I came out here again, the cat was gone. It was just you lying there. Bare-assed." Then Minseok informed him that he'd somehow managed to get Luhan off the floor and to the spare room bed.  
  
“Did you like the view?” Luhan managed to find some energy to waggle his eyebrows.  
  
“I wouldn't know. I wasn't looking,” Minseok snorted.  
  
"I don't get it, doc. Why are you so calm? You're behaving like you find panthers in your house every other day?"  
  
"Am I calm? I'm not sure that I am. But I reckon that if you wanted me dead, you'd have killed me before you changed forms and you didn't. So. . ."  
  
Sitting up in bed, Luhan asked, "Will you tell anyone about this? About me? Sorry, but I have to ask. If I expose my kind because I showed myself to a human, I'll probably be exiled if I'm lucky, and killed if I'm not."  
  
"No! I wouldn't tell. This isn't my business. Just, you know, quietly leave this place when you're able. You lead your life, and I'll lead mine, and everything will be just fine."  
  
"What if I don't?" Luhan leaned back against the pillows, his eyes focused on Minseok's face.  
  
"Don't what?" Cocking his head slightly, Minseok gave him a curious look.  
  
"What if I don't want to just lead my life? What if I want to drop by and have a drink on the porch. What if I bake brownies and I want to give you some?"  
  
"Can you even fucking bake?" Minseok asked, chuckling.  
  
"Well, no. But that's beside the point. The point is maybe I'd like to visit some time and touch base."  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea," Minseok said quietly.  
  
"Is it because—are you disgusted? Do you find me repulsive?" Luhan refused to sound hurt when it actually felt like there were tiny splinters digging into his chest.  
  
"Oh fuck no. I'm just. . .I don't do so well with people is all. I'm not good company and I like being alone. That's why I live all the way out here. The city is just so suffocating sometimes, you know?"  
  
"Yeahhh. But I might just show up with brownies one day. Or funnel cake. Maybe a bottle of JD."  
  
"I don't like sweet things."  
  
"I might still show up anyway."  
  
Minseok gave a long, deep sigh, but he didn't say _fuck off_. Luhan took that as a positive sign.  
  
  
  


///

  
  
  
  
The needle moved across his forearm, over and over, puncturing pale skin. Black ink spread and bloomed to form a pattern of blood-stained, spidery snowflakes. It was the fourth time he'd had falling snowflakes etched into his skin, but they never stayed. The snowflakes never stayed because the shift always stole them away. And Luhan's right forearm always emerged bare and unadorned, with minute grains of dried up black ink scattered on the ground.  
  
He just wanted the snowflakes to still be there after a shift. _Just fucking ONCE_. Maybe then, he could stop fixating on someone who wasn't into him. But who was he trying to kid? Panthers mated for life once they imprinted on someone. It didn't matter if the other person didn't want them back.  
  
It had been exactly three months since Luhan had ended up on Kim Minseok's doorstep, all bruised and battered. No matter how much he tried to stop himself, Luhan's knuckles would rap against glass or wood (depending on whether he knocked on the window or door) at least once a week. About all he could say in defence of his poor self control was that he at least never showed up with brownies or funnel cake. He had, however, convinced Minseok to keep the bottle of Jack Daniels he'd brought on his third visit, so they could have a tumbler or two every now and then.  
  
Minseok tolerated the visits and even seemed to enjoy them, but he never once said he was happy to see Luhan, or said that he was looking forward to his next visit. And he especially never told Luhan he'd missed him.  
  
Sometimes, Luhan got scratched up and bloodied during sparring sessions at the gym. On nights like these, he always made it a point to drive out to Minseok’s house, and insist that he disinfected and dressed the wounds. The first time it happened, Minseok gave him a blistering lecture.  
  
“You’re such an idiot. All you have to do is shift and you wouldn’t have to feel the burn of TCP or have me poke you with a needle again and again,” Minseok scolded in his most disapproving tone.  
  
“But this is more fun,” he smirked. "And maybe one day, you'll poke me with something else—"  
  
"FUCK OFF, YOU JACKASS." There was no mistaking the middle finger held just inches away from his face, or the sound of Luhan's own laughter.  
  
Fuck Minseok and his old school taste and his old school expressions. And fuck his handsome face and his gummy smile. He didn’t want any of it, he thought miserably.  
  
_Why you_ , Luhan asked himself. But neither he nor his beast had an answer.  
  
There were times when Luhan had caught sight of Minseok sitting out on the porch on his own—with his plain white mug and his French press coffeemaker. Quiet as the night, he'd snuck through the trees before padding his way across the expanse of green leading up to the porch.  
  
"Oh, it's you."  
  
That was all Minseok ever offered as a greeting on nights like these. Luhan would rub his body against his leg and Minseok would stroke his fur—long, smooth, confident strokes that made Luhan purr as his smoky black tail curled and wrapped around Minseok's calf. Sometimes, Minseok even scratched him behind the ears and stroked him beneath the chin.  
  
Luhan would be filled with an aching sense of need, and of belonging. Those visits were the hardest, in a way. Because when Luhan was in panther form and unable to express how he felt, that was when Minseok touched him, all on his own. It was fulfilling and frustrating, all at the same time.  
  
It had been three months of bittersweet and Luhan wondered how much more he would have to endure before he managed to convince Minseok to take a chance on him. _If_ Minseok could even be persuaded. Ever. Anyway, that was something he would worry about later. It wasn’t like the problem was going anywhere because of the whole panthers-mate-for-life business.  
  
It was New Year’s Eve, and Luhan had decided that they would spend it together because Minseok was too antisocial to celebrate in the city and Luhan’s sensitive hearing didn’t take well to fireworks or noisemakers, or people yelling for that matter. So he’d texted Minseok to say he’d be coming over with a bottle of bubbly and some takeaway finger food. Minseok had replied with a typically noncommittal, _if you say so_. But it wasn’t a _FUCK OFF_ so that was good enough for him.  
  
They spent the evening talking and munching on baby bruschetta, smoked salmon rosettes and jalapeño poppers. And in between, they sipped champagne from elegant flute glasses. Well, Minseok sipped anyway, while Luhan took large, manly gulps. It was nice to just be in the same room with Minseok. It was the nicest thing.  
  
The fire was crackling in the fireplace and the room was all warm and cosy. In fact, it was getting a little too warm, Luhan thought. He’d never needed much in the way of winter clothing because of his high core temperature, but even the spring sweater he had on was getting to be too much. Making an impatient noise, he pushed the light knit sleeves up to his elbows.  
  
“That’s—Luhan, are those snowflakes on your arm?” There was mild shock, and maybe some degree of curiosity in Minseok’s voice.  
  
“These? Yeah. I got them done this afternoon,” he confessed as he held his arm up and examined the tattoos. His skin was smooth now—all the redness and swelling gone so that the tattoo looked at least two weeks old. It was one of the benefits of being a shifter. Well, at least right up till the shift when the tattoo vanished completely as the skin healed itself all the way through.  
  
“Why snowflakes?”  
  
“Because it’s winter? Geez, Minseok, it’s not rocket science. You can figure it out if you try,” Luhan said with a sheepish laugh.  
  
“Why snowflakes?”  
  
“Because they remind me of you and your dumb snowglobes, duh.”  
  
“But why would you do this on your skin? It’s so. . .permanent!” Minseok looked scandalized and Luhan wasn’t sure this was the reaction he’d been hoping for.  
  
“Relax. It’s not exactly permanent, doc. It’ll be gone the next time I shift.”  
  
“How can you be sure? Maybe the ink has stained the skin and the tattoo will stay, you idiot! Why would you do this?” Minseok was shaking him by the shoulders—Minseok who never lost his cool, Minseok who was always calm no matter what curveballs Luhan threw in his direction.  
  
“I’ve already done it three times and the tattoos never survive the shift—no matter how much I want them to!” Luhan half yelled, his voice shaky with emotion.  
  
“This is the fourth time? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS! A tattoo is supposed to be permanent!” Minseok’s face was flushed with anger? Concern? Luhan couldn’t even tell. But he was definitely upset.  
  
“That’s the point, you jackass! I want it to be permanent. I want your stupid snowflakes to be burnt into my skin so they never leave, because _you’re_ permanent. It will always be you, for me. Even if you don’t feel the same, it’s you for me. That won’t ever change, so you can stop fucking lecturing me!” Luhan yelled before adding, “You’re such a jackass, Kim Minseok. I don’t even know why I want you.”  
  
“You—” Minseok said indignantly before he ran out of steam. He looked like he was about to release a torrent of words but he suddenly went still--looking very unsure of himself. “You really want me that much?”  
  
“What do I have to do, oh my God,” Luhan groaned, covering his face with his hands.  
  
“Well, you could kiss me for one. You're all talk and innuendo but you've never actually once tried to kiss me. Or even hold my hand. I thought you were just yanking my chain with all your flirting, because you’ve never tried anything.” Minseok's voice was practically vibrating with frustration.  
  
“You want me to kiss you?” Luhan couldn't believe he'd spent three difficult months reining in all his instincts as he tried not to forcibly claim Minseok. That wasn't how he wanted things to go between them—there would be no forcing. Never. He'd made his choice the first time Minseok opened the door for him three months ago, and Luhan just wanted Minseok to choose him too.  
  
“I've been wanting you to kiss me for two months at least. You're so fucking oblivious,” Minseok said, glaring. Luhan wasn't used to a not-in-control Minseok, but he liked it. Minseok was even more devastating when he was upset. There was no way out for him now, and even if there was, Luhan wasn't taking it.  
  
Luhan gasped as he felt the heat of another thigh pressed up against his. Then Minseok's warm hands were on his face and his heart beat like a drum, deep in his chest. That luscious pink mouth he hadn't been able to resist from the start, was so close. Luhan wanted so much to just lean forward and. . .touch. But he wanted Minseok to be the one to decide.  
  
In the end, the past few months of longing proved to be too much for them both. Reaching for each other, their lips met hungrily in a kiss filled with desire and desperation and tenderness. _So much tenderness_. Luhan had never wanted anyone so much, he thought, as his palm slid over Minseok's nape, pulling him closer.  
  
Later, after they'd taken some of the edge off the yearning, they sank into each other's arms, laughing. Minseok felt so solid and so good in his arms, and Luhan never wanted to let go.  
  
“I thought that kiss was never going to happen. You're so incredibly dense,” Minseok grumbled.  
  
Scowling, Luhan retorted, “I'll try to make up for lost time. Dammit, doc.”  
  
“And no more stupid tattoos. What if they'd used recycled needles? You could have gotten an infection and died, you stupid, stupid man.”  
  
“It would take more than a dirty needle to kill me. I'm a panther, for fuck’s sake.”  
  
“Yes, a really stupid one,” Minseok reiterated. “You don't need to tattoo snowflakes onto your skin to show your commitment. Just stay with me,” he said, and then the insults dried up as Minseok reached up and kissed him.  
  
In the background, people were singing _Auld Lang Syne_ and wishing each other _Happy New Year_ on national television, but Luhan and Minseok were too distracted by each other to even notice.  
  
  
  
  
---


End file.
